What Hurts Most
by Tangledupandsideways
Summary: It always hurts most when it's someone you love doing the hurting
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story is inspired by my favourite scene from a Kelli Williams movie. You can find the clip on YouTube under "Flowers for Algernon - Charlie Says Goodbye to Alice". It does spoil. If you want to kill your soul, follow with "Flowers for Algernon - part 11" from about 1:50. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. May seem OOC at first, but I think the explanation fits. You tell me!_

What hurts most is that he doesn't even tell her goodbye. He just _goes._ He just goes and leaves her alone in his house, his _bed,_ and doesn't even say goodbye.

She wakes to the sun slanting in through the big bay window, eyes cracking open slowly. She takes in the space and knows instantly where she is, but she doesn't even have to move to know he's not there with her. She can feel the emptiness of the room, the house. It's not much different than the emptiness of her heart at the realisation.

She sighs deeply, pulling back the dark sheets and gracefully leaving the bed. She plucks her bra from the carpet and snaps it behind her back and turns to search for the rest of her clothes. She finds her slacks and blouse and puts them on, forgoing the undergarment she can't seem to find.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Last night was supposed to change things, supposed to make the two of them whole again. It was supposed to stop the hurt. They had shared proclamations of love. She had _believed_ him. But, he just wanted her in his bed. Obviously that's all he wanted considering he left her there.

She descends the stairs into the kitchen and immediately notices the pink Post-It on the kitchen island. She peels it from the granite, her face scrunching up as she reads the words in his messy scrawl.

 _'I'm sorry, love'_

She lets out a breath of air she didn't even know she was holding through her nose, eyes pressing closed as she does it. She blinks against the tears that want so badly to fall as she crushes the paper in her palm. She skirts the island, picking up her purse and rifling through it for her car keys.

Before she finds it, she hears a key in the door and feels an inexplicable rush of hope into her body. But, it's Emily's voice that calls out, not Cal's, and although Gillian loves the girl, she can't help but feel disappointed.

She blanks her face as best as she can and walks into the foyer to greet Emily. She smiles when the teen walks in.

"Hey Em. I came to look for your dad, but he's not here. I was just on my way out," she lies easily, although she can't help but flash sadness at the mention of Cal's absence.

Emily angles her body and tilts her head, clearly trying to read Gillian. All Gillian can think is 'she looks just like her father when she does that'.

"You okay, Gill?" she asks, genuine concern in the pull of her brows.

"Yeah. I just want to go home. I'll see you around, Em." She says, placing a hand on Emily's shoulder in goodbye before slipping her feet into her black pumps.

"Bye," Emily says, slightly confused by the woman's quick departure.

But Gillian turns a dazzling smile in her direction before closing the door behind her.

She goes home and draws a bath, hoping the warm water will ease the aches from last night and erase the memories of his touch from her body. And as she sinks chin-deep into the water, she finally, _finally_ allows herself to cry.

* * *

"You are a _complete_ jackass," Emily tells her father as he enters their living room near to dinner time.

"Am what I am, darling," he jokes, lifting his eyebrows in humour.

"I can't believe you. I just... I can't even," she says, getting up from the couch to offer him her discoveries.

She holds them up, the crumpled pink sticky note and the ziplock baggie containing a pair of women's intimates. She watches the colour drain from her father's face as he takes it all in, realises what exactly his daughter was on about this entire time.

"What're you doing with that?" he asks, his voice tightening with his anxiety.

"I saw Gillian today, Dad! And she looked... off, so I decided to investigate. I _know_ what you did, Dad. You're a dickhead."

"Emily," he chastises, equal parts deperation and close-to-snapping temper.

She shuts her mouth, dropping both items on the coffee table. She stands and turns away from him, sighing deeply.

"It's _Gill,_ Dad. She could never deserve what you've just done. And if you've driven her away, I don't know that I could forgive you."

With the words said, she hurries up the stairs and into her room, closing the door with just enough force to drive the dagger deeper into Cal's heart.

He sinks deeply into the couch cushions, dropping his head into his hands. He knows that he'll need a very strong drink to get through this night.

* * *

She is dreading going into work. It's been two days after she slept with Cal and awoke in an empty bed. She knows she looks a mess, she certainly feels that way. And she feels dirty and used and betrayed and she just doesn't want to face the man who could make her feel those things. And she just doesn't think she can keep the hurt off of her face.

She considers calling in sick, but then remembers she has the Davenport meeting and Cal would just butt heads with him, maybe even lose the profitable account, and she can't back out on the company like that. So, she swallows her pride (read shame) and gets dressed for the day in a red long sleeved blouse and a black pencil skirt.

She covers up the dark circles under her eyes and the lovebite on her throat, buttoning her shirt up the rest of the way for good measure. She picks up a pair of open toe black pumps to wear later and slips her feet into flats for driving before she sets off for the Lightman Group.

She arrives slightly late and very nervous, but tries her best to pull herself together. As she walks into the building, she thinks of Cal, but thankfully she doesn't see him. She manages to avoid him all day, busying herself with work outside the Group and mountains of paperwork in the office and never passing him in the halls.

It's only when she's fumbling for her keys in the car park that she hears him.

"Oy Foster!" he calls as he walks towards her.

Her heart stutters in her chest and she blinks desperately at the tears that come at his choice of greeting. Composing herself, she turns and slowly brings her eyes to his.

"Can we talk, love? I need to explain some things to you," he almost begs.

"Cal," she says, her voice a plea.

"Please, Gillian. I just need you to listen."

She presses her lips together and shakes her head, but sighs in resignation. Cal had hurt her, but he was still her best friend, still the closest thing to family she had. Just listening couldn't be that bad.

"Neutral territory," she acquiesces.

"Okay," he scratches his head. "How's that little place with the good coffee?"

"Yeah," she breathes. "That's okay. Just give me an hour and I'll meet you there."

He nods at her and turns to go, but his feet falter and he turns back to look at her. His face says what his voice isn't ready to, but she has already turned back to her car and doesn't see his expression.

* * *

"Hi," Gillian says as she approaches the corner table where Cal is sitting, just private enough for the coming conversation.

"Hey Foster."

Another surge of pain comes unbidden to Gillian along with more longing for the familiarity and love that she has felt in Cal's presence for so many years.

"Ordered you a coffee," he says, shoulders shrugging.

"Thank you," she replies, pulling her arms out of her sleeves and settling her peacoat on the back of her chair.

She sits down tentatively, shifting forward to reach for the cup in front of her.

"First thing, nothing I told you this last weekend was a lie."

"Right," she says sarcastically, stifling a snort.

"Just listen 'cause this is real to me, Gillian."

She gives him her full attention, raising her eyes to his and setting down her coffee cup.

"You're my best friend and you've helped me so much. You've helped me fix every problem I've made. Every time I've messed up, you've forgiven me. You helped me forgive myself for what happened with my mum. And I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I mean that," he says.

"Then, I don't understand at all," Gillian replies, eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't want to hurt you," the words come in a quiet cloak of vulnerability.

"And I do, I know I do. I hurt you again and again and I _hate_ that, but there's so much that I just can't keep myself from doing. I will disappoint you, I will hurt you, and you're going to forget that underneath all of that, I love you. The more love I give you, the more it'll hurt when I do something dangerous. And we both know I will. So, it's better we just... I just need you as my best friend, need you to stay, love."

"I don't-" Gillian begins to argue, struggling to bring her jaw back up from the ground.

"I know you don't agree, but I gotta do this. Can't hurt you more than I have to, can't make you walk away."

Gillian sighs, tears pricking at her eyes and a lump forming in her throat.

"This is what you want?" she asks, deep blue saucers staring into his green ones.

"It's all I can have, love," he replies, shrugging despite the sadness she can hear in the statement.

She takes in a breath, blinking desperately against tears.

"Okay," she breathes. "Okay, can I just ask you one thing?"

"Of course."

Her eyes drop to the table, to the creamed coffee gone cold in its mug.

"Is it me? Is it that you think I'm not strong enough or something?"

"God, Gillian, no. You're the strongest woman I know. I just love you way too much to let you get hurt. I love you way too much to let myself be the one to hurt you the most."

Her eyes slip shut, a few silent tears running down her face.

"You've already hurt me the most in saying that you love me, then saying that I can't have you, especially when you're the one of only two people I've ever let myself love so completely."

"I'm sorry, Gill. I'm so sorry."

She wipes at her eyes, taking in a steadying breath.

"I'll survive. I always do. I just- I have to go," she says, mustering a smile.

She gathers her coat and her bag and rushes out of the cafe without even a goodbye. Cal prays to a God he doesn't even believe in that Gillian hadn't felt as much pain in his leaving as he does in hers.

* * *

"Did you fix it?" Emily asks as soon as Cal walks in the door.

"I- I don't think so, love," he says, toeing off his shoes and coming further into the house.

"I was trying not to hurt her, but I think I did anyway."

Emily's face falls, but she covers it up as quick as she can.

"I know you tried, Dad. Best intentions and all that," Emily smiles.

She turns and begins to walk into the kitchen, casually turning her head over her shoulder to speak to her father.

"Besides, she loves you. She'll come around."

"I hope you're right, Emily," he says, following her into the kitchen.

"I know I am," she replies, wrapping her arms around her father and filling him with the safe familiarity of her love.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom is the third boyfriend she'd had in three weeks, he's been counting. And he's not her usual type either. He drives a motorcycle and wears too much leather and just reeks of bad boy status. He drives Gillian on the back of his motorcycle to "lunch" which is really just beer and chips, not what prim and proper Gillian Foster needs. And Cal would know, he's been her best friend nearing a decade.

When Cal watches her go on the security feed, playing on his laptop, he feels a tightness in his chest. When he said he couldn't be with her, he didn't mean he wanted her to find someone else, at least not so soon. And definitely not someone who's all the bad bits of him intensified, someone who will only hurt her.

She's still not happy, that's the first thing he notices as he rewinds the film and pauses it. He blows up the still and stares at the lines and creases and tension in her face, hoping to see some bit of happiness, but all he sees is the anger and hurt. All he sees is what his rejection did to her. And what a mistake it turned out to be. If he could take the words back, he would.

* * *

Gillian leaves the room, feeling nothing at all. She smiles at the passerbys on the street as she walks back to the office, her heart pounding in her chest as she thinks of what Cal might say when he realises she has had another breakup in so short a time.

As she nears the building, she puts her mask into place, hiding her feelings from everyone. She passes the front desk and Anna gives her a look of equal parts worry and sympathy that raises her brows in interest. She walks deliberately past Cal's office and catches a glimpse of he and Wallowski standing too close together, discussing a case and obviously flirting. Gillian feels sick.

She hurries to her office, heels clicking hard and fast on the tiling in her haste. She's nearly out of breath when she gets there, sitting heavily in her chair. She lets out a sigh, dropping her purse on the table. It's not long before an idea comes into her head.

Her hand shakes as she digs out her cellphone and dials the unfamiliar number. He had called her when he moved to DC a few weeks before, inviting her to help him find a new place to buy blueberry pancakes. She had declined politely, saying she was very busy and he hadn't called again. Now as his voice comes through the speaker, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

"Vas?" She says. "It's me, Gillian. I was wondering if you had found any good blueberry pancakes, yet."

* * *

When Gillian walks into the office a few days later, Cal is waiting. Her grabs her arm and pulls her into his office without a word, slamming the door behind them.

"You're seeing Vas, Gillian? The man's a murderer! Got off on a technicality!" Cal screeches, his voice grating to her ears.

She flinches at his tone of voice, at the smell of scotch and a long night on his breath, but says nothing for a long time.

"Why does it matter to you?" she finally breaks, looking up at him in her exasperation. "What? You can't honestly expect me to be alone forever?"

"You deserve better, Gillian!"

"Now, that's not fair! You don't get to say that to me!" Gillian snaps, stepping forward and close, index finger jabbing at the air before his chest.

"What? Why? He's an arse. They were all arses."

"Because _you're_ not, okay?" She argues, fighting the emotion that strangles her insides.

They both hear the implied _'And you didn't want to be with me'._

"What do you want me to say? I said that I was sorry."

Gillian scoffs and shakes her head, turning and walking away, the sound of her heels muffled on the carpet. As she reaches for the door, he calls out.

"Oy! Don't do that! Don't walk away! It's not my fault you feel the need to fill the void with dangerous strangers."

"Did you just-... Oh my God, I can't _believe_ you!" She turns quickly, anger bubbling up inside of her and imaginary steam pouring from her ears.

"You don't get to call me a whore. It was you who didn't want me. _You_! You were supposed to be my second chance, my fairytale ending. The only place I was ever supposed to end up was with you. I was supposed to be happy with _you._ But I don't get that. So, I don't need to explain myself to you and I don't need your permission. This is how I'm picking up the pieces, okay? You don't _get_ to call me a whore!"

"I didn't mean... I didn't-"

"I don't even want to hear it, Cal," she interrupts smoothly. "I'm done. If you don't want to at least pretend we can be friends, I'm just... I'm done."

She sighs the words, voice so tired and resigned.

"I'm sorry," he tells her again. But, he knows the words will never be enough to fix all that's broken between them.

* * *

Gillian paces her living room, thinking and thinking and thinking and still not coming up with any way to make it all hurt less. She can spend a night with Vas and pretend like she's forgetting, but still it's Cal's touch she imagines on her body, Cal's voice echoing in the dim light of his bedroom. She doesn't want Vas, doesn't want any of the men. She just wants to feel okay again. She just wants to feel less alone. She just wants to feel like someone's choosing her, that someone wants her.

She's been the second choice one too many times. It never hurt this much when her parents or Alec or anyone she's ever come in contact with chose themselves over her. But for Cal to talk of love so deep, then choose his fear of losing her over her need to have him. It's just... It's not the choice she wanted to hear, especially not from him.

She recieves a text, the sound of vibration against the coffee table snapping her out of her thoughts. She walks to the table and picks it up, seeing that it's from Vas. She releases a sigh and puts the phone back down, not bothering to open the message. Instead, she finds a corkscrew and opens a bottle of wine, collapsing onto her couch in exhaustion. At least for tonight, she'll find solace in solitude instead of wrapped up in a warm body, where all she'll really feel is the cold of his heart and the emptiness of hers.

 _A/N: this one's inspired by Grey's Anatomy, some early Meredith Grey vibes with the "you don't get to call me a whore" dialogue, so not all my words. Look up that speech, it's awesome! One of my favourite parts of that show._


	3. Chapter 3

"Vas? What are you doing here?" Gillian asks when he comes into her office, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You didn't answer my call," he replies dryly.

"I'm sorry," Gillian says. "I was busy. I was going to call back on my lunch break."

"I don't think so," he answers.

"What do you mean? Of course I planned to return your call," Gillian replies.

"Or not. You don't want me, you want _him_."

Her eyes widen.

"What are you even talking about?"

"You. Want. Him," he spells out for her, voice increasing in volume.

"That's not true," her lie is a whisper so as not to reveal the emotions etched into her words.

"It is! You want him, you want Lightman! So why are you even here?"

"It's not true," she says again. "If I wanted Lightman, why would I choose you?"

"I don't know. Gillian, all I know is that you're leading me on! This is over! This is done!"

She tips her head, stupid enough to reach for him. He jerks his arm back before her touch reaches him and takes a step back. He doesn't want her, either. No one does.

"Vas," she pleads.

"It's over!" he yells in finality.

He grabs the vase of flowers that he had sent her, throwing it to the ground. Glass and water and a dozen pink roses scatter every which way, mostly towards her office door, the shattering so loud in her ears. He turns his back on her so quickly, storming out of the room without words, and slamming the door behind him hard enough that the thick glass rattles in it's frame.

She looks outside her door to see the group amassed quickly disperse, heads down in shame. She catches Cal's eyes, the sadness so apparent in hers, but he doesn't come to her like she wants him to. He just turns and leaves with the rest of them.

* * *

Her hands are quaking as she plucks the trampled roses from the ground, dropping them into her garbage bin. It looks a bit like a vase of flowers, but without some of the beauty, and she thinks a lot of her life has been that way lately. She doesn't want anymore of the less than beautiful that tries so desperately to pretend it is. She doesn't want to be with any man except the one who doesn't want her.

She goes out into the hall to the nearest supply closet and pulls out a broom, a dustpan, and a few towels. She heads back to her office with the supplies and lets out a sigh at the mess.

She piles two towels on top of each other and gently dabs at the water, trying her best to avoid the glass. When most of the water is gone, she sweeps all the broken glass into the dustpan.

Exhausted beyond words, she puts the broom down and sinks onto her white sofa. She's so tired of the games, she just wouldn't know what to do if she stopped playing.

* * *

"Gillian?" Emily calls out at the door to her office, braving a gentle knock.

"Emily! Hi," Gillian says, awkwardly waving the girl in.

Emily walks across the room, stepping around the dustpan full of glass shards, before coming to a stop in front of the couch where Gillian's sitting.

"I heard what happened. Are you okay?" Emily asks, genuine concern in the movement of her eyebrows.

"Yeah," she says, exhaling slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"That's just... It's not like you, Gillian," Emily brings up, her eyes widened and bright with worry.

"I know, Em," she sighs. "I'm just having a hard time right now. Not myself, you know?"

Emily frowns, leaning closer to Gillian with an inquisitive look on her face.

"Because of my dad?" she asks.

Gillian's eyes flit up to meet Emily's so quickly, eyelids blown wide in surprise.

"What do you know?"

"All of it," Emily says, blushing a little bit and looking away in discomfort. "But, I know my dad loves you. He had good intentions, I honestly believe that. And I think you do, too."

"I shouldn't be talking about this with you," Gillian says, shifting up further in her seat and straightening out of nervousness.

"You don't have to. I'll go. I just wanted you to remember that. And know that he's been trying so hard to make things right with you."

Gillian softens at the honestly in the teen's voice. Her frown deepens momentarily and her heart beats too quickly in her chest as she thinks of the truths spoken, not making anything easier for any of them.

"You don't _have_ to go," Gillian says, meeting Emily's eyes. "Just sit with me a while."

Emily agrees, finally taking a seat next to Gillian on her little couch and sharing in a moment of warm silence.

"Thank you," Gillian eventually says, though Emily isn't quite sure what she's being thanked for; the company or the conversation.

"Anytime," she says nonetheless.

* * *

Gillian flops onto her sofa in her living roon, sinking low into the cushion and drawing a throw pillow into her lap. She looks at her cell phone and scrolls down her list of contacts. His is the first name under 'L', right above Emily's. She presses the call button.

She waits for the dial tone, knowing he won't pick up. He always showers at the same time. She had laughed when he told her that and promised never to call between nine-thirty and ten again.

She panics a moment when she hears the beep, then remembers she's meant to speak. And she has a lot to say.

"Hi. It's Gillian. I was calling because... Well... I know we talked about this or at least you told me what _you_ thought of this already, but I feel it deserves one last shot. I love you. I am in love with you. And, I want this. I want us to try to be together. I know you think that you'll hurt me and maybe you will, but you said yourself, I'm strong enough to handle it. And I know you love me, too. I know you would do your best not to. I want to try.

"You keep saying I deserve better, but what I deserve is you. You make me happy, Cal. And I don't wanna spend the rest of my life trying fo prove I can be without you, when all I want is to be with you. I think we could really be something amazing together.

"And if you don't agree, if you don't want to try, I understand. I understand and you can just... Just ignore me, I'll get the hint. And I promise, I won't read you, won't force you to tell me anything. But if by chance, you want to try this, too. Just... Call back, please. Bye."

Gillian hangs up the phone slowly, dropping her phone onto the couch beside her. She drops her face into her hands and braces herself to lose her chance with the only man she's ever let herself love.

 _A/N: Just one more chapter to come, but will probably post another one-shot first. Tomorrow will mark my first year of writing in this fandom (technically just now as it's about to be midnight as I post this), but I'm so happy about that. I've got a ton more in me, so can't wait to see where it goes. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

She wakes in the middle of the night on her living room couch, cramped and sore and clutching her cell phone tightly to her chest. She shifts into a more comfortable position, lifting her phone and clicking the button that brings the screen to life. She checks the call log hurriedly, hoping she'd slept through the ringing, but there'd been no incoming calls.

She sighs in disappointment, tossing her cell phone onto the coffee table and rising into sitting.

She shouldn't have expected a different result; it was Einstein's version of insanity for sure. He had told her already that this wasn't what he wanted and nothing had changed. Nothing had changed, so why was she _so_ sure he would tell her yes this time. What made it different?

 _'I made it different,'_ she thinks, but only for a second before discarding the idea.

She stands from the couch and goes up the stairs to her bedroom, flicking off the lights that illuminate her path. The dark makes it easier somehow.

* * *

Cal lies restlessly in bed, going over and over her words in his head.

 _'If by chance you want to try this, too...'_

He turns over again, flipping the blanket over his head in attempt to shut off the thoughts. It's the same battle all over again. Hurt her by being with her or hurt her by saying no? Which is worse? Which would ensure her happiness most longterm?

Sure, it would hurt her to be rejected by him a second time, but that wound would heal. That wound would heal and then she'd find someone else. And he would be happy for her as long as she was happy, no matter how much he'd ache inside his chest.

But if he followed his own desire, she would be wounded over and over in a torturous cycle. They'd be good together, happy for days, weeks, months and then he'd muck it up and hurt her. And he'd apologise and make things right and soon she would heal back up again. And he'd ruin things all over again, hurt her all over again. That had to be the worst thing, right? That had to be what'd hurt her most. Could he really commit to doing that to her?

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter as he imagines her pain right now, sees what his initial rejection had done. She hasn't been herself, hasn't been Gill or even Dr. Foster. What if a second rejection would push her away for good?

With images of her distress burned across his retinas, he doesn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

Gillian spends the next day holed up in her office, giving Cal lease to avoid her. It was her promise, not to read him, and she doesn't think she'd be able to restrain herself if he was a standing tease in front of her eyes.

A knock sounds on her office door and she looks up to see Torres standing there. She gestures for her to come in and wipes the contemplative expression from her face.

"Need something?" she asks expectantly as she looks at Torres' face, frustration lining the features.

"You gotta do something about Lightman. He's _brooding_ and- what's that?" Torres gestures at Gillian's face.

Gillian schools her face, evens her tone.

"What's what?"

Torres narrows her eyes, placing her hand on her hip.

"I know that look," she declares in an attempt to seem stern.

"Really?" Gillian asks, urging her tone towards innocent. "What is it?"

Gillian'd never been so sarcastic with her employee before and she sees the shock cross over her face.

"I know that look," she insists, shaken now she's been called on her bluff.

"Just can't put my finger on the name," she adds under her breath.

She's gone before she finishes talking about Cal, being thrown off of her game. Gillian waits until she's out of earshot, then lets out a sigh of relief.

* * *

It's past eight when she finally runs out of work to do. She saves her spreadsheet and powers down the computer, standing up to stretch her tired limbs. She squats to put back on the heels that she'd slipped off while working and when she stands, she finds herself staring right at Cal.

"Hi," she greets warmly, trying to ignore the flip flop her stomach does.

"Hello love. Productive day, was it?" he asks, tone gentler than it's been in a long time.

He's letting her hear the love in it and that could mean one of two very different things. Either he's going to let himself love her or merely trying to let her down easy.

"Very," she replies, a smile curling up on her face despite herself.

"Good, good," he nods, sticking his hands into his pants pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

"What is it?" Gillian implores, becoming increasingly agitated by his behaviour.

"I think we need to have a chat, Gillian."

Gillian presses her lips together.

"Okay," she agrees hesitantly.

"Okay," he replies.

 _A/N: Yeah, I lied. There's one more chapter after_ this _one. But, I'm not cruel. I waited a bit to post, so you can have your ending right now, too. Hope you enjoy :)_


	5. Chapter 5

Gillian walks over to her desk and perches against its edge, expectancy all over her face. She inclines her head in further prodding. He bounces on his feet in his struggle to find words, then calms still.

"I've not been fair to you," he says quietly. "We're supposed to make decisions like these together, when the outcome will affect us both."

"Yeah," Gillian draws out quietly.

"So, it's your turn then. Tell me what you would've said if I had given you the opportunity to speak."

She takes a moment, palms smoothing over her skirt and her hips shifting more weight against her desk.

"I'd say that I think you're wrong. I'd tell you that I don't think you'd hurt me and even if you did... Well I've been hurt worse," Gillian says, shoulders shrugging. "And look, I'm still here after all this time, after every lie, every secret, every little betrayal you've spun. Do you really think you could get rid of me so easily? You really think I don't know what it feels like to have my heart broken by you?"

A lump forms in Cal's throat at the thought, but he fights it down, his hands clawing at the air.

"Then why do you stay? Why do you want this?"

"Because you're not going to hurt me. You've shown me how you love fiercely, too. You've shown me what it feels like to be loved by you, too. And I want that. I want that every day and uninhibited."

"So what of the rest? Just gonna take the rough with the smooth?"

"I love the rough bits, too," she smiles.

"I'd choose you, Cal. Whether or not I ended up hurt. I'd rather have all of you for a while and get crushed than spend another day feeling the way I do."

Her heart begins to race as she inclines her head and raises a single eyebrow, asking him an unspoken question that's answer could define everything they'd spent so much energy on.

"I'd choose you, too. I always choose you, love. Any way you'll have me," he says, eyes firm on hers in reassurance. "Whatever you want, Gill. I will do whatever you want."

"Tell me the truth," she suggests, hesitance flashing over her face as she continues her request. "Tell me what _you_ want."

He smiles as if it's the simplest thing he's done in a long while.

"I want to be with you."

"Then, why... You're a complicated man, Cal Lightman," she replies, eyebrows furrowed.

"I thought I was protecting you, but I was protecting me, at least at first. I was afraid I'd lose you. And it's begun to seem like _not_ doing what I want here is a quicker way to lose you. Look at where we are," he gestures between them to emphasise the largeness of the space. "That's not what I want. I want you and me, Gill. That's all I need."

She steps forward, just close enough to touch and suddenly what felt like a chasm, wide and empty and stretched so far between them, feels no more than a pot hole. It won't hurt to fall, it's so close now he can taste it. And if they're honest, they've already done the falling, they're just waiting to help each other stand up again.

She lets her hand fall to his chest and he wraps his palm gently around her wrist, feeling the beating of her pulse.

"Are you saying yes? To this?" she asks.

She tries to hide all the hope she feels, but it takes her a fraction of a second too long and he smiles in reply.

"I am, I guess," he says.

The brightness of her smile is more than enough of an answer for him.

"Time to go home. I've kept you up too long already. Know you love your beauty sleep," he tells her, finger tapping against his watch.

He watches her yawn, her hand covering her open mouth.

"Right," she agrees, moving around the desk to pick up her bag and light coat.

He takes her by the hand, leading her out of her office and down the empty hall.

She tightens her coat around her as she steps into the night breeze and waits for Cal to finish locking up. When he turns to face her, she's stifling another yawn and he smiles.

"Been a long day," she explains as they make their way to her car.

He makes a noise of agreement, nodding also.

When they stop in front of her car, she smiles, knowing what's to come just by the look on his face. He tilts his head down nearer hers, brushing his lips against the corner of hers. The smile that comes up on his face is almost funny in its intensity. He kisses her again, mouths meeting in near perfect symmetry. She cups his face, deepening the kiss to her liking. When she pulls away, she pats his arm.

"Goodnight," she says, digging through her purse for her car key.

"Great night," Cal replies, watching as Gillian turns the key in the door and pops it open, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat.

"We'll have many more."

She gives him a smile as she sits in her car, the hurt finally fading from her every cell. And as she closes the door and turns the key in the ignition, she allows herself another smile, this one just for her, as she wonders how it was possible for something that had hurt her so deeply to become the best thing she's ever had in her life.


End file.
